


Purple is a Lucky Colour

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Serious fluff, dog salon, theonexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon works at a dog salon and messes up Grey Wind's fur.





	Purple is a Lucky Colour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovefuckinglife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefuckinglife/gifts).



> Hello dear giftee! 
> 
> This isn't your gift - I mean, of course it is, although Theon's not the owner of the salon (I hope you don't mind), but er... it's not your GIFT gift?  
> I'm not really making sense -.-
> 
> I first picked your prompt with the three Trials and started working on it - and it grew, and grew and GREW. By the time the Deadline was looming upon me I was halfway in (I still am) and there's still SO much to write and tangle and disentangle and I really don't want to rush it, so. 
> 
> Here's a replacement gift, until I have the hell that is the other one ready.  
> I do hope you like this bit of fluff!

The dog’s fur is purple. It’s subtle, not screaming at you, but definitely purple. He’s sitting there, all fluffy and freshly blow-dried, wagging his tail and grinning up at Theon, tongue lolling out of his mouth. If Theon wouldn’t know better he’d think the dog is telling him he’s totally fine with his new hair color. But something tells him that the dog’s owner won’t be.

How on earth did this happen? Theon had just washed the dog, blindly fumbling for the shampoo… He looks at the bottles lined up beside the doggie tub and groans. Apparently he’s taken the hair dye he’ll need for Mrs. Martell’s toy poodle later instead of the shampoo. And now he’s got a big, friendly, purple wolfhound sitting there.

Shooting the dog a wary look, Theon walks over to the counter and looks up the day’s appointments in the salon’s calendar. There, 3pm, Grey Wind. Owner Robb Stark. That definitely doesn’t sound like an old lady or a sweet little girl, the only people Theon can think of being okay with their dog suddenly being purple. No, this one is probably 6 foot tall and built like a brick house and will first kill Theon and then get him fired.

He still needs to trim Grey Wind’s fur, so Theon sets to task, wondering for a moment if the doom in form of that Mr. Stark will kill him more or less if he just shaves the dog’s fur off. What is worse, he asks himself, a purple dog or a naked dog? His hand with the hair trimmer pauses while he’s seriously pondering to just do it, when Grey Wind lifts his head from his paws and gives him a look that very clearly says, don’t you dare.

Theon doesn’t dare. He keeps on trimming, letting his fingers glide through the soft, thick fur on the dog’s neck. Would be a shame to cut all that off, really. And then, maybe the gods are good and Mr. Stark turns out to be a nice elderly man who doesn’t care. Or a blind guy who won’t see. Or maybe he’s colourblind. Or it is a girl after all and the parents just tried to be progressive with naming her Robb. Roberta.

Who is he kidding? Theon sighs and buries his head in Grey Wind’s purple fur. It’s him after all, and he’s never been of the lucky sort. Well, he got this job, which - apart from the dogs that bite and the whole gland squeezing business - isn’t too bad. It pays alright and keeps him off the streets, and out of his father’s grasp.

When he’d first heard from his lawyer that he got him a job at a fucking _doggie salon_ , Theon had yelled at him for an hour straight before calming down enough to realise that Mr. Seaworth was actually trying to be nice. It was either the dog salon or a job in a restaurant kitchen, and Theon much rather shampoos fur and cuts claws than peeling an endless stream of potatoes.

It’s been seven months that he’s here now, and even the colleagues aren’t so bad. There’s Renly, the owner, his boyfriend Loras, and Loras’ sister Margaery who’s helping out when she’s not working in her grandmother’s flower shop. Theon likes them well enough, even if he could do without the snogging whenever Renly and Loras are in the same room. It makes Theon queasy, and maybe a little jealous.

It’s been a long time since he’s got someone to snog silly. Not that he couldn’t, but for some reason he’s sick of silly, giggling girls and fit but dumb guys he can’t even talk to after doing the deed. Not that he wants a relationship, far from that. After sharing a very tiny room with a very dumb (thankfully straight), very big guy for over two years, Theon’s still revelling in how good it is to live alone. Even if his flat is tiny as well, and a little shit. At least no one watches him on the pot apart from the spider that lives in the corner. He’s named it Bubbles.

The doorbell rips Theon out of his thoughts and he scrambles to his feet hastily, Grey Wind following with upturned ears and a tentative wag of his tail. The sword of Damocles hanging over Theon’s head quivers threateningly as he presses the door opener, then goes to shoo Grey Wind into the back room. Mustn’t have his crimes in plain sight. A second later he sighs in relief when he greets Mrs. Martell and Ramon the poodle.

Smile plastered firmly on his face, Theon picks up Ramon (carefully, he’s one of the nippers) and compliments Mrs. Martell out of the door as quick as he politely can. When the door falls shut behind her, he glares down at the tiny dog in his arms. Ramon looks back with an evil glitter in his round button eyes.

“This is all your fault, you know that? Yours and your owner’s. Why do you have to be purple, for fuck’s sake? As if your awful little tuft wasn’t bad enough. And the pompom on your tail. Do you _enjoy_ walking around like something escaped from a candy store?”

Ramon’s answer is another look of heartbreaking disinterest, but at least he hasn’t tried to eat Theon so far. Still mumbling expletives and curses under his breath, Theon dumps the little dog into one of the washing basins. A quick check into the back room assures him that Grey Wind has slumped down again, watching Theon out of sleepy eyes.

After washing Ramon and getting bitten no less than three times, Theon has nearly forgotten to fear for his life when the bell rings again and his heart leaps in his throat. He’d just been massaging the damn purple hair dye into Ramon’s fur so his gloved hands are covered in soapy foam and he runs over to press the button with his elbow, then goes back to his task of being bitten. Footsteps are coming nearer and the door swings open.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Theon calls over his shoulder, proud that his voice isn’t quivering as much as his hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got time.”

The voice behind Theon is deep and friendly - as of yet - and unfortunately doesn’t sound old at all. _Colour blind_ , Theon prays silently, _please let him be colour blind_. Finally he’s done, and after Ramon bites his forearm a last time for good measure, Theon stuffs him into a transport box. He’ll have to wash him again later to style the poodle’s usual hairdo, that is, if he still has his job by then. Eh, best get it over with. Theon takes a deep breath and turns around. There, at the counter, casually leans someone who looks like every wet dream Theon’s ever had.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, covered unnecessarily by a tight, navy jumper. Long, jeans-clad legs, crossed at the ankle. Theon swallows before daring to look up into the vision’s face. Blue eyes, firm, stubbled jaw, wide, smiling mouth and - gods be good - dark hair with a shimmer of red. Red hair. Cryptonite. Theon’s knees go weak as he continues to stare at the man like a creepy lunatic, hands still covered in purple suds, unable to say anything. When he finally does, he wants to hit himself immediately.

“Please tell me you’re not Robb Stark.”

The smile slips a little at that and the man (please be someone else!!) tilts his head.

“I’m afraid I am. Why?”

Before Theon can answer, there’s a bark behind him, a scratching sound, and promptly the back door flies open to reveal Purple Wind in all his glory, running at full pace towards his stunned owner. Theon closes his eyes and groans. Robb Stark, down on his knees with his hands in his dog’s fur, looks up at him open-mouthed. Quickly Theon tugs his hands behind his back.

“I didn’t do it.” After a second of oppressing silence Theon realises how stupid that must’ve sounded. He tries again. “It was an accident, I swear!” Robb Stark doesn’t say anything. Theon heaves a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. “Seriously, Mr. Stark, I’m SO sorry I can’t even tell you, please don’t have me fired!”

Robb Stark’s blue eyes are glittering now, one corner of his mouth lifting as if he’s amused about something. “My name’s Robb,” he says after another endless moment of silence. “You do realise you still have dye on your hands, right?”

Theon looks at his gloves, not understanding for a second. Robb Stark’s - Robb’s - gaze flickers to Theon’s head and Theon groans again as he remembers what he was doing some moments ago. Great, now he’ll have purple hair as well. _Uneven_ purple hair. Fuck. Desperate, he stares down at Robb still looking up at him with that slightly amused expression - and starts laughing. Robb’s face lightens up immediately and he starts laughing along, and it’s such a nice sound that Theon swoons a little mid-laugh.

“I guess I deserve it,” he mumbles finally.

Robb gets up and leans against the counter again, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, you definitely do. How on earth did this happen?”

Theon beckons him over to Ramon who’s growling at them through the grid of his box. “See that nasty little bugger? His owner brings him here to have his fur died every couple of months.”

Robb bends to get a better look. “Wait, you’re telling me the owner wants a purple dog - on purpose? Like, they’re paying you to dye their dog??”

He sounds incredulous, and Theon chuckles. “She’s not the only one, mind. We’ve got a lot of customers, usually with poodles or other toy dogs, who want their dogs dyed. Blue, silver, green even. Not my cup of tea, but at least it’s all organic and doesn’t hurt the dogs.” He grins at Robb. “Your dog is safe except for the humiliation.”

“About that,” Robb rubs his chin, looking thoughtful. “How are you going to compensate me for that?”

That sounds so suggestive in Theon’s mind he’s sure he’s imagined it. Robb probably means money. “Of course you’re not paying for today’s service,” Theon assures him. Robb blinks.

“I rather meant, you owe me a coffee or something like this. When do you close today?”

Oh wow.

“After Ramon here,” Theon gestures at the snarling box, “I’m done for the day. Mrs. Martell normally picks him up around six.” He remembers something. “I can’t go to a cafe! My hair will be streaked purple!”

Robb raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, alright, that was probably a stupid thing to say.” Theon shrugs. “So, coffee. Anything else I could do for you?”

Now that really _did_ sound suggestive, and Theon wants to slap himself.

“Actually, I thought you could do me a favour.” Now Robb looks positively angelic. Angelic with the grin of a demon. “You know, my cousin’s dog - Grey Wind’s brother - is pure white, and I really think blue would look amazing on him. Think you could help me with that?” Robb winks. “No repercussions for you, I swear!”

Theon pretends to think about that. “Is your cousin an angry six foot tall beast and built like a brickhouse and going to kill me?”

Robb laughs. “Close enough, only the small version of what you just said. And he won’t kill you, I’m ninety percent sure.”

“Reassuring,” Theon mutters. “We’ll talk about it over a nice cup of coffee.”

“Coffee, cake and your phone number.”

Theon grins. Maybe his luck will change after all.


End file.
